Chapter 465: London Decision and Tokyo Contact

London, 10 Downing Street underground conference room, 8 September 1916, 11 p. m.

The war cabinet's emergency meeting had been going for three hours. Two telegrams lay on the table: the one on the left was sent by Asquith from the ship "Malaya", detailing his talks with Chen Feng; the one on the right came from the Sinai front command, reporting that Lanfang First Mechanized Infantry Division had completed 60 % of the fortifications at Hordesa, and the artillery positions were fully formed.

"So, Chen Feng put forward this plan," said Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey, rubbing his reddened eyes, "use Sakura Nation's manpower in exchange for our tacit approval of Hordesa."

Army Minister Lord Kichina stared at the little red dot marking Hordesa on the map, his finger drumming the table unconsciously, "What's the price? Did he say?"

"He didn't state it outright, but a commission is certain," sneered Navy Minister Lord Bellford, "that Eastern merchant won't pass up any profit opportunity."

"The question is—" Grey set his glasses down, "—whether we should accept it? Or, can we bypass him and deal directly with Sakura Nation?"

The conference room fell silent for a few seconds.

Director of Military Intelligence Section Six, Sir Smith‑Cumming, spoke up: "Technically feasible. We have an embassy in Tokyo and can contact Prime Minister Xiyuan Si Gongwang directly. But there are two risks: first, Chen Feng may be displeased and cause trouble elsewhere; second, Sakura Nation might not be willing to send troops to both warring sides—so we could see friendly forces fighting each other on the battlefield."

"Then find a way to make them agree," Lord Kichina said in a low voice, "tell them that if they only send troops to Deguo and not to Yingguo, after the war… Yingguo will remember that."

The threat in those words was obvious.

Prime Minister Asquith spoke then, having just returned from sea; his complexion was pale but his eyes were sharp: "Gentlemen, we are not debating morality, we are debating survival. From Versailles to the Somme, two months of fighting, we have already lost 420,000 men. Domestic manpower is nearly exhausted, factories even have fifty‑year‑old men on the front lines. If we cannot achieve a Breakthrough before next spring…"

He did not finish, but everyone understood: the war could no longer be sustained.

"So," Asquith looked at Grey, "send a telegram to Tokyo. In my name, invite Prime Minister Xiyuan Si Gongwang 'to exchange views on the Far‑East situation.' At the same time, have Sir Frederick White, our ambassador in Japan, make a private contact to probe Sakura Nation's government stance."

"What if Xiyuan Si Gongwang refuses?" asked Bellford.

"Then we raise the stakes," Asquith said expressionlessly, "tell him that Yingguo can recognize Sakura Nation's special rights in Shandong, support its admission to the League of Nations after the war, and even… offer a low‑interest loan."

Grey's hand paused as he recorded: "Prime Minister, these conditions…"

"Are bait," Asquith cut him off, "whether they can be fulfilled after the war, we'll see then. Right now, we need soldiers—soldiers who can shoulder a rifle in the trenches and charge without fear of death."

He rose, walked to the wall, and ran his finger across the European map: "Deguo has been using Sakura Nation's manpower for eight months; you've seen the results—at Verdun, Sakura Nation's casualty rate was twice that of Degjun, but their advance speed was also twice. They don't fear death, or rather… their commanders don't mind their deaths."

The room's temperature dropped sharply. Everyone heard the unspoken implication: using others' lives to save Yingguo's.

"But morally…" a young cabinet secretary could not help but speak.

Asquith turned, his gaze like a blade: "Young man, when you have to sign five hundred casualty notices every day, then come talk to me about morality."

The secretary lowered his head, daring not to say more.

"It's settled then." Asquith returned to his seat, "send the telegram to Tokyo. Polite in tone, but pressure must be full. Tell Xiyuan Si Gongwang: this is a request from the British Empire, and also… a test."

The telegram was sent to the communications room. Half an hour later, encrypted waves crossed the Eurasian continent, flying toward distant Tokyo.

The person receiving the telegram was at that moment kneeling in the prime minister's residence's tatami room, staring blankly at another document before him.

Tokyo, Prime Minister's residence, same time, 9 September, 2 a. m.

Prime Minister Xiyuan Si Gongwang knelt on the tatami, back straight but shoulders slightly slumped. The sixty‑seven‑year‑old had not slept well for three consecutive nights; the dark circles under his eyes were especially evident in the dim kerosene lamp light.

Three documents lay before him, like three mountains pressing on his chest.

The first was an "informal memorandum" delivered this afternoon by the Yingguo embassy. Polite in wording, but the subtext carried undeniable pressure: "…the British Empire sincerely hopes the Sakura Nation Imperial Government can, under the current international situation, demonstrate the substantive content of its traditional friendship with Yingguo… regarding troop reinforcement, we look forward to your active consideration…"

The second was a "reminder letter" handed over yesterday by Deguo's military attaché in Japan. More direct, more blunt: "…the fourth batch of ten divisions (250,000 men) must depart before October. The Imperial Army urgently needs experienced troops; price may be increased by 10 % over the first batch standard…"

The third was an "invitation letter" sent this morning by Lanfang's Foreign Ministry, placed on top. Concise but loaded with meaning: "…Borneo's rice harvest is abundant, and we wish to share it with our friendly neighbor. President Chen Feng cordially invites Prime Minister Xiyuan Si Gongwang to visit Kundian in the near future to discuss regional food security and economic cooperation…"

Three documents, three directions.

Yingguo wants troops, Deguo wants troops, Chen Feng… wants to discuss rice.

Xiyuan Si Gongwang closed his eyes. He could imagine the reaction of the military officials—Army Minister Oshima Kenichi would surely pound the table and say, "Agree! All agree! Yingguo gives political promises, Deguo gives money, why not agree?"

But he is the prime minister; he must think farther.

If both warring sides receive troops, what scenes would unfold on the battlefield? Sakura Nation soldiers in the muddy French trenches, using rifles made by Sakura Nation, shooting another batch of compatriots wearing different uniforms but also Sakura Nation? What would the families of those soldiers think? How would domestic public opinion react?

Worse is the aftermath. Whoever wins, Sakura Nation will offend the victor by "sitting on the fence". If Deguo wins, they'll say you were not loyal; if Yingguo wins, they'll say you betrayed the alliance. Then…

He dared not think further.

The paper sliding door was gently pulled open. The secretary cautiously stuck his head in: "Prime Minister, Army Minister General Oshima wishes to see you, saying it's urgent."

Xiyuan Si Gongwang sighed: "Let him in."

General Oshima Kenichi strode into the tatami, his army boots thudding heavily on the mat. He skipped the pleasantries, knelt opposite Xiyuan Si Gongwang, and pulled a document from the inner pocket of his uniform.